Wall Talk
by Ceph Cepheus
Summary: Oooo. Sounds like the name of a cheesy American thriller, which no-doubt will happen soon....


Wall Talk 

CHAPTER 1 - Why I Bothered

If I'd not been so bloody desperate to go to the bog I'd have been spared so much, and I'd have been getting on with just normal living as I had done before. But I was. What're you gonna do, 'ey?

My name is Suzanne. Isn't that a funny name? Like some said Susan and thought it sounded too English, so they Europed it up to 'soo-zan'. Well, I find it funny. Looking at the dictionary on I got the following;

Su·san·na ( P ) Pronunciation Key (s-zn)

In the Apocrypha, a captive in Babylon who was falsely accused of adultery and was rescued by Daniel.

I'm afraid that's as close to my name as the stupid dictionary thing got. Bloody 'Z's.

It was probably after five by this time, and without a proper I.D card I couldn't get into the residential block to use their facilities, so li'l old me wound up -yep- in the old 60's concrete-brick block, sitting on an icey toilet seat in a disgusting old primary-school-like toilet. These places should be cordoned off and refurbished, not left like this for innocent passers-by who feel nature's call to enter unwittingly. The thing that was quite funny about the place wasn't the smell, which was the usual anti-bac stuff they deluged everywhere; it was the artwork and metal, fully exposed sinks. You could see all their piping underneath, rusting and stinking if only the clying anti-bac would lay down the hatchet. After I was finished and washing my hands, wincing in the process since the water smelt rather strongly of yet more anti-bac -this was starting to get silly, and I knew I wasn't coming down here again- and then, while I had my head bowed and reversed slightly upon my shoulders, so my chin almost met my breast-bone, I saw it. This, my dears, is where the plot not so much thickens, as comes into being in the first place. Written on the wall, in a tiny style I would say resembled the papyrus font on a computer, was written a tiny little message. I had to squint at it to read it better, and the words, I had to admit, were beyond my vocabulary at the time.

It read; "Emancipation is just aroudn the corner, for the fourth wall/That perjoration of my light, that I can't see beyond plain sight."

Nice. Well, so much for poetry class. It clearly wasn't doing whatever girl had written it much good, judging by her somewhat lacking verse. I decided I could compete with this easily, and wrote a couple of lines from a poem I'd composed about this place;

"The marching filth of anti-bac That one and only repulse With a whitewash and graffiti Is a hurting, shitting story."

Sorry for the plagiarism. We did Reggae Sounds in English. I went back up to my flat on campus, found Will playing cards with Ruth and Laurie, and went straight to my room to get on with some work. Our final English assignments for this year were due in within the next three weeks, and they were real biggies, too. After an hour frustratedly trying to get in a full introduction to some of the terms I wished to use in my essay, I just reclined in the chair and pulled my feet up under me. I could tell by the abating of laughter next door that Will was finished with the cards, and couldn't help that funny grin I always pulled from under the rim of my hat when he came in, also grinning broadly. He came across behind me and looked, without a word, at my splayed esssay on the screen.

I pulled his arms around me so he was hugging my shoulders while asking, "if you have these two sentences, here," I pointed out two sentences I had written. "Is it alright using a semi-colon?"

"Yeah. You gonna be long doing this?" He kissed my neck, and I nearly swooned for pleasure right away. "Come on, finish that up and let's be away, away I says!" He always talks like that, inventing words aroudn pirate speak and suchlike. I love that about him.

"How was your test?" I asked softly, slipping my hand up to ruffle his hair. So much playful, funky hair! It really put mine to shame.

"Oh, t'was alright. You need seventy-percent, and I reckon I've got more 'an eighty, most likely."

"Dudey! Sounds like someone needs rewarding for their gallant deeds this day!" As I spoke I turned and stood in the chair, towering over Will, and kissed him long and slow. That was how he kissed, and I had never felt better. I think the rather pleasant time we spent that evening from here onward is better left undisclosed.

* * *

This story is intended to be a mere thriller. I'm afraid the connection to the forces of HDM is tenuous and will not be stressed heavily, but hey, it's how I write fanfiction. I once wrote a fanfic with Will and Lyra meeting again and it turned into a trilogy I didn't have the time or desire to write. Hope this is enjoyable to some degree at least.


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